The White Dress
by devianttart
Summary: River fears the fall.


Time: Sometime after "Objects in Space" but before the movie

Author's note: This is my first _Firefly_ fic. Please be nice in your brutally honest reviews. )

Disclaimer: I own nothing _Firefly_ or _Serenity_ related. It's Joss's world. I just play in it.

* * *

Wash stared out at the stars, feeling something like peace. The ship was silent, all of its denizens sleeping. Including Zoë. On nights like this, when he felt so…transient…he would loose himself in his wife's luminous eyes or her dark, dense hair, but not tonight. Tonight was for the stars.

He wasn't a man given overmuch to brooding. He preferred jokes and grins. He liked to be happy. But tonight he felt unsettled and being with the woman he loved brought him no comfort. So he turned to his mistresses. For Wash knew that even though he shared her with Mal, he loved Serenity with all his being. And the sky was another mistress, all his own. He sighed deeply, letting the air clean out the cobwebs and clutter in his mind and settled deeper into his seat.

A bare foot scraped almost soundlessly against the steps behind him. So he wasn't the only one awake after all. He turned as the delicate young wild child breeched his sanctum.

"Hey there, River," he drawled out.

She did not seem to hear him and he hadn't expected her to reply. This wasn't the first time she had visited the bridge while everyone else slept. More than once, Wash had started his day by finding River curled up into the co-pilots seat, sound asleep. Nothing was ever messed with so Wash never mentioned it to anyone. She would wake, share a conspiratorial smile with him and skip gracefully away. He figured she was entitled to some secrets.

Except tonight…well…tonight had been his. After all, wasn't it that need for solitude that had driven him from his wife's touch? Wasn't he sitting in the chill dark because he had wanted something that was his? His, his and only his? For he knew, ultimately, that is wasn't just a ship he shared with Mal. Not that he worried that his wife would ever – no. Since the embarrassment of Mal and Zoë – "embracing"- post Niska, Wash learned to not question Zoë's faithfulness. But he knew there would always be a part of Zoë he could never touch. A deep, hidden mark that only Mal could see.

But Wash didn't want his maudlin fears to affect River so he said nothing. He watched he as she stood, swaying a little, mouth open, eyes drinking in the sky. Her head was cocked to the side as if she was listening to something just beyond his ability to hear.

They were quiet together for a while. Wash's thoughts become smoother, less tangled and frustrated, as if River still maintained some of her namesake's tranquility. He made minute adjustments on the control panel, mostly unnecessary. But touching the panel connected Wash to the sweet, humming vibration that was the core of Serenity.

"You are a leaf on the wind."

Wash was surprised to look up and see River watching him. A slight smile graced her face.

"And watch how I soar," he replied with a cocky air.

Her forehead furrowed, her fragile, ink colored eyebrows tilting downward. "Leaf…on the wind…" A soft flash of white tickled her mind's eye. This was why she had come here, she knew now. "A leaf…on the wind…"

"That's me," he said, beginning to wonder what she saying. Being completely honest with himself, Wash knew that he was scared by River. He figured any sensible person would be. She might resemble a fairy changeling more than a sumo wrestler, but he had seen her try to slash her way into Jayne's stomach and he'd heard all about her skill with a gun. But he liked her, despite all that. She touched something in him. And he knew that she loved Serenity as much (_more?_) as he did.

But the look on her face right now was downright peculiar, as if she were trying to translate a language she had never see before.

"Leaves fall," she finally said, her voice trailing just above a whisper.

"We're not gonna fall, River. Don't you worry." His reassuring grin felt a little strained.

She looked at him and sighed, her eyes opaque in the darkness. Then she gracefully plopped down to the floor, legs tucked beneath her and wrapped her arms around his lower leg. She rested her head against his denim-clad knee.

Wash was at a complete loss. He couldn't tell if River was scared, sad, murderous or what. Not knowing what to do, he finally reached down and rested his hand on her dark head. Softly he stroked her hair. It was softer than he had expected. But the dry, flyaway ends caught on his callused fingertips.

She reached up and pulled his hand down to her face. Pressing her cheek into his palm, she inhaled his scent. The silence stretched on.

It was River that spoke first. "Zoë looks beautiful in white."

Now he was officially confused. "What?"

River's eyes met his with a startling intensity. "The white dress. _Don't – make Zoë – wear – the – white dress!_" Her hands gripped his harder, her sudden distress becoming more pronounced, though her voice stayed soft.

Wash scrambled to think. The only white dress Zoë owned had been her wedding dress, a long, straight column of lace that had made him weak in the knees. As far as he knew, River had never seen it. "River-"

"Leaves fall. Don't – She'll wear it for you, if you make her. But please," she shook her head, tears beginning to sparkle in her eyes, "don't make her wear the white dress."

He tried to make her feel better but he didn't know what was wrong. "Okay, River, whatever you want. I won't make Zoë wear the dress."

With a soft cry of frustration, River pulled away from him. "Leaves fall," she muttered as she ran down the stairs. "Leaves fall." But it was too late. The thought, the warning, had passed, was gone. Leaving just her. She stood in her room, wondering why her face was wet with tears.

Wash watched her go, and then turned back to the stars. All at once, he missed his wife terribly. He switched on the autopilot and went to her. But even then, as he held Zoë close, sleep did not come that night.


End file.
